


A Moment for Monsters

by afterandalasia



Category: Brave (2012), Frozen (2013)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe – 19th Century, Arendelle, Community: disney_kink, Crossover Pairings, Elsa Has Ice Powers, F/F, Femslash, Infidelity, Kings & Queens, Lesbian Elsa, Politics, Post-Brave (2012), Post-Frozen (2013), Sexual Content, Supportive Anna, Wordcount: 10.000-15.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-20
Updated: 2014-06-20
Packaged: 2018-02-05 12:21:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1818304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afterandalasia/pseuds/afterandalasia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the Western Clans come to visit Arendelle, Elsa hopes only that she might be able to start a friendship with Queen Elinor of Clan Dunbroch. But somehow they find that they have a bond that goes closer than friendship, an understanding that goes deeper than words, and something between them that threatens at times to shatter them both.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Moment for Monsters

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ashleybenlove](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=ashleybenlove).



> From the marvellous [prompt](http://disney-kink.livejournal.com/9516.html?thread=6191404#t6191404) on the Disney Kink Meme, though perhaps the OP did not expect the story to so thoroughly rampage off! OP, I thank you.
> 
> The OP asked specifically for an ending light on the angst, which is what I've tried to go for. Although there is a moment which could be considered angsty (though I'm not a good judge of these things), I've tried to keep it to a minimum and with a generally happy ending.
> 
> Once again, Young MacGuffin's Doric is as accurate as I can research it to be. At least I resisted the haggis jokes this time.
> 
> Passing references to Cinderella (1950), Mulan (1998) and Tangled (2010), but you don't really need to know anything about the movies.

"Come on, come on, come on!" Chanted Anna, pulling at Elsa's hands. It was infectious, and Elsa laughed as she allowed herself to be tugged out of her study at long last. "You have spent _quite_ enough time dictating that letter to Prince Charming--"

"Prince _Christopher_ ," replied Elsa, working to keep her voice level. The poor man must be quite sick of the nickname after so many years, but it appeared to have stuck. It did not help, in a way, that he and his wife Éliane had been so unfailingly polite on his visit the previous month that both Anna and Elsa had been rather sorry to see them leave.

"Whatever," said Anna. "But the Western Clans ship has been sighted! We'll barely have time to make it to the docks."

She was storming ahead, pulling Elsa along by the hand, and Elsa relished moments like this now. The servants could just deal with it, when they didn't think it charming themselves. But as they reached the courtyard, Elsa tugged her back again so that they could walk at a more sedate pace.

"There will be plenty of time," she said firmly. "And it will not do to be seen gallivanting through the streets." Elsa tried to keep a straight face, but could not help her lips twitching into a smile. "At least until we can be sure what Queen Elinor and her companions will think of the matter."

Princess Éliane had actually said that she was relieved to meet people "with so few airs" that they would not only take lunch in the garden but end up throwing bread to the ducks and making daisy chains. Her husband had played along with a faint look of amusement.

In their parents' days, ceremonial welcomes of visiting states had been held in the courtyard of the palace. Although it was a fine space for that, Elsa had reluctantly decided that it was better to make new patterns of behaviour, and had used the May Square of the town instead. People were gathering on the streets, as much to see the visiting Western Clans Queen and Princess as to catch another glimpse of Elsa and Anna. The people were getting used to having their royalty back again, but rulers of another Kingdom were a far rarer sight. Bunting was strung from house to house, flowers filling window-boxes and pots, and people were hanging at the edge of the square of from house windows to see.

"I can see the sails," said Anna, _sotto voce_. Elsa reached over and squeezed her hand for a moment.

"It'll be all right. We've done this before." Prince Christopher and Princess Éliane, at the beginning of the sailing season, and the royal family of Corona the year before. It had still been less than two years since Elsa's coronation, however, and before that it had been almost thirteen years without an inward or outward state visit. They had yet to dare an outward one. Anna nodded, smiling but still bouncing on her toes nervously.

" _Your Royal Majesty, Your Royal Highness, we welcomes..._ " she muttered in Dunbrochan.

" _We welcome you to Arendelle_ ," Elsa replied. Although there would be translators present, it had been discreetly decided that it would be best if both parties used their second language of Angelt to communicate as much as possible. They had both worked, though, to learn to greet Queen Elinor and Princess Merida in their own tongue.

" _Welcome you to Arendelle._ "

The weather was still cool, this late in the sailing season, but in the lee of the mountains the city was not covered in snow, and the sun was at least trying to impart some warmth to the world. Elsa's eyes traced over the symbols on the sails of the ships, just visible above the houses: a silver sword on purple background – the purple dye probably traded from Corona – a lyre on red, a cauldron on green, and a rock on green-silver. Although Clan Dunbroch was the most powerful of the Western Clans, it would not be the only one represented.

She resisted the urge to make a chip of ice to roll between her fingers, just to have the security there, and waited. When the music started up down by the docks, Elsa released a breath that she did not realise that she had been holding. There were a few whoops from residents, a street or two away.

"Here we go," said Anna. It was somewhere between nervous and excited. Elsa could not agree more on either count.

The Arendelle guard-army was not large, and the band was partially made up of normal musicians who earnt extra money by performing on state occasions. Not that such was acknowledged officially, of course. It was not a terribly state-like thing to do.

Anna nudged her side. "At least the music's upbeat."

Elsa tried, and failed, to suppress a smile. From somewhere beneath the music came a strangled squawk that sounded like someone attempting to inflate a sheep. "Oh stars," said Elsa. "They brought the bagpipes."

But, luckily, did not play more than one note on them. The Arendelle guards of the parade came into view first, in their smart blue uniforms and marching all in step. Captain Rute was at their head, and when Elsa caught his eye for a moment he might just have smiled. He did train his men well.

The Arendellens peeled off into two blocks, each one taking to a different side of the square. From behind them, the Western Clans appeared. It was a larger party than Elsa had expected, perhaps nearly twenty people altogether, which at least explained why they had bought more than one ship with them. She had arranged for two carriages to be sent down to the docks, and they were occupied, but there were Clans men walking behind as well. Not in quite such a unified manner as the Arendellen ones, though. There might have been some shoving going on.

The front carriage stopped in the centre of the square, one of the footmen from the Palace already stepping smartly up to open the door and let down the steps. He assisted down the occupants: first an older woman, commanding in her presence, wearing a golden circlet; a girl probably Anna's age, with wild red hair and a grin on her face; and a heavy-set, nervous-looking young man in a long kilt.They approached where Anna and Elsa stood at the head of the square, the younger woman looking around with interest while the older kept her gaze fixed comfortably on their hosts.

One of their retinue stepped forward to stand at the Queen's left hand and cleared his throat nervously. When he spoke, though, it was in perfect Meävelt. "Your Majesty Queen Elsa, your Highness Princess Anna, may I present... Queen Elinor of Dunbroch of the Western Clans, Princess Merida of Dunbroch of the Western Clans, and MacGuffin Master of MacGuffin of the Western Clans."

Elsa waited, whilst their translator provided the reciprocal introductions for herself and Anna. Then she stepped forwards and smiled to Queen Elinor.

" _Your Majesty, Queen Elinor_ ," she said, in her practised Dunbrochan. " _Your presence is a pleasure._ "

She extended her hand to the Queen of Dunbroch. It was always a sign of trust and friendship to shake hands with the royalty of another country, but Elsa knew that it was doubly so when it was her hand being shaken. The shining ice that still adorned her palace was more than reminder enough of her power, never mind the snowman that lived in the gardens and thought that the ducks were his pets.

"As is your Dunbrochan," replied Queen Elinor, with a smile, slipping back into Angelt. She took Elsa's hand, her grip firm but not too tight, and shook politely.

"Alas, I have reached my limits in it," said Elsa. Knowing exactly in which order greetings were to be made, she turned to Princess Merida and waited for a moment.

The young woman was still smiling, her eyes now following the line of Elsa's dress to look along the train. Anna had commented once that it was impressive just that Elsa managed to keep it looking so perfectly clean. There was a long, somewhat pregnant pause, and then Queen Elinor cleared her throat and said, "Merida," quietly.

Merida looked at her mother questioning, then realisation dawned and she turned quickly to Elsa again. "Your Majesty." She curtseyed, the movement not really much more than a bob, and Elinor gave the slightest of sighs. Elsa smiled, though, and inclined her head in return.

When not panicking or trying too hard, Anna could produce beautiful curtseys, and out of the corner of her eye Elsa watched as her sister swept low with a swish of her skirts. " _Your Majesty, Your Royal Highness, we welcome you to Arendelle._ "

Elinor looked quite delighted – Elsa knew the feeling. Arendelle was not a particularly powerful country, and would likely be overlooked altogether by larger ones were it not for its excellent timber and even better shipwrights. Dunbroch was even more ignored in the grand scheme of politics. In both cases, they usually had to deal with all foreign powers in tongues other than their own, and it was nice to see visitors who made even the smallest effort.

Finally, Anna stepped forward to shake Merida's hand, and with all introductions finally done Elsa allowed herself an internal sigh of relief. She gave a glance and a minute nod to Captain Rute, who turned to his mostly-military band to strike up the music once again, and cheering filled the air. With any luck, this visit would go just as well as the others had before it.

 

 

 

 

Elsa sent a message ahead to the Palace to have more of the guest rooms prepared, and for Gerda to be ready to meet her at the earliest opportunity to arrange who would be staying where. It was frustrating, but not unheard of, for visiting parties to be larger than had originally been intended. Especially when the Western Clans were really four visiting nations at the same time. Making sure that lunch was prepared for the entire party would be more of a feat, and she hoped that it would not be minded if two tables were set. Perhaps Anna would be happy to sit as the head of the second.

Well, it was not as if life was always going to go her way.

“It has been many years since I have visited Dunbroch,” said Queen Elinor, jolting Elsa from her thoughts. “I am glad to see that it is just as beautiful.”

It had been twenty-one years since Dunbroch had last paid a visit to Arendelle. Elsa had been two years old, and certainly did not remember it.

But then again, the palace glittered now with the colours of the aurora, and the mountains formed a dramatic backdrop to just about every angle of the city. In rain or hail it could be a miserable place, but in the sunlight it was pleasant. “I’m glad to hear so,” said Elsa. She hoped that Elinor had not been obliquely commenting on how little Arendelle had changed during her parents’ rule.

She was relieved when Elinor gave her a coy smile. “I hope you still do that excellent smoked salmon.”

Elsa laughed, not just from the relief but from remembering the time when she and Anna were children and had snuck into the pantry to eat smoke salmon. They had eaten so much that they fell asleep on the floor and were found by the cooks the next morning. Luckily, their mother had found it funny. “Oh, I don’t think that’s going to be lacking.”

“You haven’t yet seen the way that my men eat,” replied Elinor.

There was another bagpipe-related sound somewhere behind them, and Elinor winced slightly. For a moment, Elsa considered admitting where half of her ‘military’ band came from, but held her tongue for the time being. If they managed to forge a friendship as well as an alliance on this visit, then perhaps she would consider it.

“Fish is among the things we do not lack,” said Elsa. The castle came fully into view ahead of them, rooves shining, the great snowflake above it glittering in the sun. The best part was still seeing the gates thrown open, doors and curtains wide, letting in light and air and life.

Merida missed a step at the sight of it, and declared something in Dunbrochan of which Elsa could guess the general meaning. She felt the stab of uncertainty again, that fear that they would run from her, think it a curse and not a skill, but then Merida smiled widely and Elinor gasped, hand politely covering her mouth.

The translator stepped forward nervously. “Her Highness Princess Merida remarks that your castle is like nothing she has ever seen.”

“Thank you,” said Elsa, in Angelt, but Anna was the one smiling widely.

“I told her it was beautiful. It’s actually really good...” she paused, and looked to their translator. “How do you say _insulation_?”

The translator looked nonplussed. “It is... good at controlling the hot and cold?” he offered. Anna shrugged and looked back to Merida.

“It... looks like the open sky,” said Merida. Her smile was still disbelieving, and she tilted her head as if the ice was just an illusion.

Elsa realised that she was trailing the fingers of her right hand along her left sleeve, and pulled them back sharply. She had realised, somewhere along the line, that her confidence made the people around her more confident, and now held tight to that thought. “Thank you,” she said. “Though I assure you, the inside is not similarly decorated.”

“Kinda a pity,” said Merida, her accent breaking through, and Elinor gave her a glance but did not say anything. “It’s beautiful.”

Another flush of relief, and Elsa found her own smile once again. “Come,” she said, “I will arrange for you to be shown your quarters, and rest after your journey. Luncheon will be served at one o’clock.”

Provided she managed to get the servants to have it prepared on time. This could be an interesting visit.

 

 

 

 

Kai and Gerda, in their roles as butler and housekeeper, were waiting for her in Kusymre Office. On the way back, Elsa had counted twenty-three members of the Western Clans party, instead of the expected twelve, and swiftly agreed with Gerda which rooms would be prepared. Not knowing exactly who most of them were, she simply had to hope that the accommodations would suit each individual. Kai, however, looked a little pale at the thought of trying to double the amount of afternoon tea to be provided at such short notice.

“Make sure there is plenty of smoked salmon,” Elsa said, giving him the most reassuring smile that she could manage. It occasionally felt strange to be speaking to a man over twice her age in such a way, but she had grown used to it over the years. “It is a favourite of Queen Elinor’s.”

“We have ekte geitost,” he volunteered, “and the cloudberries were delivered just yesterday.”

“Save the cloudberries for dinner. This need only be a light affair, and we don’t want to scare them off with our cuisine straight away.” This was the easier part, in a way: not dealing with people, but arranging the world around them so it seemed effortless.

With a bow and a curtsey and murmured ‘your majesty’s, they left, and Elsa paused for a moment in the still, quiet room. She ran a hand through her hair, found it too loose for her liking, and with a wave of her hand bought combs of ice into being to smooth it more neatly into its braid. The Western Clans Alliance unnerved her, in a way; many of its members seemed to be loud, exuberant, even bawdy, and while that was far from a bad thing it was almost intimidating. An unthinkable reaction from a Queen, of course, but Elsa felt it all the same. Luckily Queen Elinor seemed to be an island of peace among them, successfully keeping some sort of control.

Mercifully, her audiences with her ministers had been cut down to a minimum whilst the state visit was occurring, and Elsa was able to steal the intervening time for herself. She found Anna waiting in her room, sitting cross-legged on the window-sill and watching the distant gulls outside.

“Is everything all right?” asked Elsa.

Anna turned round, and her smile answered before she even began to speak. “Oh yes. It’s amazing. Merida was talking about how she rides, and does archery, and she introduced be to MacGuffin – she can understand most of what he says, even if the translator can’t. How is the Queen?” It was good to hear that Anna and Princess Merida were getting along so well that they had already dropped the need for _Princess_ between them. Though Anna tended to have that effect on people.

“Queen Elinor is...” Elsa searched for words, and mostly failed. “Difficult to read. I think it will be a pleasant couple of weeks, but I can’t be sure beyond that.”

“And lunch?”

Elsa pulled a face. “Will hopefully not be a complete disaster.”

Laughing, Anna grabbed her by the arm to pull her out of the room and off down the corridor. “I’m sure it will be _fine_. And even if it weren’t, they shouldn’t have bought so many extra people. Good thing you chose the ballroom to have the exchange of gifts in, hmm?”

The mental image of two dozen of them, plus translators and staff, trying to cram into one of the small offices was just too ridiculous. Elsa found herself giggling as they reached Anna’s room. “Is Kristoff back yet?”

“Not yet. He should be in a day or two, though. Sven’s probably just feeling lazy.”

One of the lady’s maids was waiting in the room, and though she looked surprised to see Elsa too, she covered it fairly well and simply curtseyed to both in turn. The outfit which Anna was to wear for luncheon – not that she had been too impressed with the idea of having to change multiple times a day during the state visit – had been laid out ready on the bed, and Elsa retreated to a distance to let her sister change.

“You know,” said Anna, “I am so jealous sometimes that you can just change your dress by thinking about it.”

“Even if the rain tends to freeze to it?” Elsa glanced round, raising an eyebrow, but Anna was tangled in her petticoat and couldn’t see. Her sister said something muffled, then re-emerged with tousled hair. “Pardon?”

“Can’t be worse than this.”

The poor maid seemed like a satellite around Anna as the two of them attempted to get Anna into the dress. Anna cursed a couple of times along the way. Elsa leant against the window and let them get on with it, hoping that there would be enough staff rustled up to cover the extra Clans guests. Their ambassador had said that they were not used to heavy staffing, so hopefully only the lady’s maids for Queen Elinor and Princess Merida, and the valet they had found for Master MacGuffin, would be particularly required.

“How come you don’t have to wear traditional clothing?”

“Technically, that isn’t quite traditional,” said Elsa, and Anna stuck out her tongue. “Just traditionally inspired.” Anna’s dress was full-skirted, longer than traditional dress, but still in the same deep blue and with intricately-embroidered red bands at the hem and sleeves. She had at least gotten her own way with regards to keeping her hair in pigtails, and not worrying about anything more intricate. “And you look lovely in it.”

Whether or not it was at the compliment, Anna smiled, and set about straightening herself up. When she put her hands down her bodice to rearrange her chest, tongue poking out the corner of her mouth, the maid winced slightly and backed away and Elsa burst out laughing again.

“What? It was uncomfortable!”

There was no really good answer for that, and Elsa settled for shaking her head. She glanced down at her own gown, and with a flourish of her arm let subtle changes roll down her dress. The cuffs of the sleeves flared, the neckline shifting, and the patterns across the bodice took on a faint hexagonal form. “There. Now we are both fit to be seen. And I meant to ask you,” Elsa took a deep breath. “Would you be willing to sit at a second table for the luncheon? It was not planned for this many guests, and I could have a larger table bought out or put two together, so long as the join wasn’t too obvious, but—”

“Yes!” said Anna, running over to grab her hand. Elsa almost jumped, too caught up in her own thoughts to expect the touch. “Of course! And it’ll be _fine_ , Elsa, stop panicking. Honestly, you are terrible. Who let you be Queen?” she added, mock-sternly.

Tension breaking, Elsa chuckled. “Sometimes, I think that is a _very_ good question.”

 

 

 

 

“I must say, my dear,” said Elinor, over the luncheon. “This smoked salmon is just as exquisite as I remember.”

She and Elsa sat opposite each other at one of the long tables that dominated the grand hall, with ministers and Clans representatives stretched out on either side of them and doing their best to communicate in Angelt. At the second table, it was more dominated by Clans folk as Elsa had not been able to rustle up sufficient Arendellen representatives at such short notice, but luckily Anna looked to be having the time of her life sitting among them.

To Elinor, she smiled. “Well, I’m sure that we could find some room for it in the trade agreements.”

“I’d be glad to hear it, as long as Fergus doesn’t eat the lot first.”

“Sounds like my sister and chocolate,” said Elsa wryly.

Elinor gave her a conspiratorial smile, and leant forwards a little, though the width of the table was such that it was really more playful than truly secretive. “Oh, that would be the triplets’ job, rather than Fergus’s. I am grateful that Merida, at least, seems to respect a healthy diet.”

Behind Elinor, Elsa could see apples being thrown into the air and caught on knives. Merida looked to be trying to teach Anna how to do the same trick. She decided not to say anything, and allowed it to continue despite the slightly concerned looks on the faces of some of the footmen. As long as the knives were staying still and the apples were the things flying, it was not too dangerous.

“I have to say, Your Majesty,” said Elsa, “that my sister and I respect the role which you and your daughter play in the affairs of your Kingdom.”

“I have heard that over the last year, you have started to be more active in yours, as well.”

Delicately phrased, Elsa had to acknowledge. She and Anna had been so constrained within the halls that they had barely had a public presence, let alone a public role. They had agreed quite early on that they wanted to change that. “Well, some of those projects are on the itinerary over the next couple of weeks. I’d be very grateful to hear what you think of them.”

“I am sure they will be quite marvellous,” Elinor said, and it sounded just a little bit like a promise.

 

 

 

 

Luckily, there was enough time to make sure that the welcoming banquet that evening did not bring up the same sort of chaos as the luncheon had, and Elsa was able to arrange for a top table to be set for herself, Elinor, Anna, Merida, MacGuffin and Kristoff. It turned out that the two men understood each other perfectly well, which Anna waved away as something to do with reindeer.

The conversation turned, not all that surprisingly, to the subject of the ice sculptures in the middle of each of the tables. Anna had very excitedly declared them Elsa’s work, adding that she had been present this afternoon while they had been made.

“You must forgive me,” said Elinor, “but we have heard tell various different tales about your magic, none of which quite seem to align with each other. These,” she gestured to the statues, “are your work?”

“Yes.” Elsa was only _mostly_ sure that she was not blushing. She glanced down at her hands as she cut into her meal, and was relieved to see that ice was not spreading on or from them. “I have been practicing my hand in them at late, and would say that I think the results are promising.”

“Well, it doesn’t do to waste a talent,” Elinor said. It sounded something like praise, and Elsa glanced over cautiously at the other Queen. It was difficult to read her expression, though, behind a pleasant smile as she examined the statue. This one was Elsa’s favourite of the day, a nøkk seated upon a rock, fish-like tail curled around it while he concentrated on the Hardanger fiddle tucked securely beneath his chin. Only to Anna would she admit that she had based his face on that of a rather handsome youth she had seen the previous day in the city. As much by luck as skill, she had managed to capture something wistful in his expression, haunting enough to suggest that he was enchanted by his own music.

MacGuffin was looking intrigued as well, and bowed his head politely as he addressed her. “Foo lang hiv ye bin gaaring this? Tis a gye blithesome sicht, ye ken.”

She looked at him for a moment, hoping that inspiration would strike and that she would suddenly be able to comprehend his words. She was fairly sure there had been a question in there, but that was about the extent of it. Even the translator looked bewildered. Nothing sprang to mind, and Elsa looked at Kristoff helplessly.

“Oh,” said Kristoff, and hastily swallowed his mouthful of food. “He asked how long you’ve been doing them. They’re nice.”

Summoning the most dazzling smile that she could muster, Elsa looked back to MacGuffin. He didn’t seem to be in the least bit offended by her complete inability to understand him. “Not that long, actually. I’ve only really been... working with the ice for a little over a year now. Before that, well,” she glanced at Elinor, “I suppose that I was letting the talent go to waste.”

“What creature did ye say this was?” said Merida. Elsa still wasn’t sure how much even the Princess of Dunbroch actually understood of what MacGuffin said, but they seemed to get along well enough. Perhaps they had some sort of agreement between them.

“One of the nøkken,” supplied Anna. “They’re water-spirits, beautiful musicians. If you take them good meat, they’ll teach you how to play.”

“Mum,” Merida began, “could we-”

“No, dear,” said Elinor, not even missing a beat. “I don’t think that would be too wise.”

Elsa caught Anna’s eye and gave her a pointed look which, she hoped, got the message across to absolutely not mention the trolls. The castle was quite chaotic enough already, as far as she was concerned.

 

 

 

 

They spent the first official day of the visit in the shipyards, beneath a beautiful clear sky. They had the luck for one of the ships to be at its most dramatic appearance: the frames in place, the clinker framing partially finished. Arendelle ships were known to be exquisite, strong and beautiful in equal measures and the only kingdom whose ships could manage the north-eastern passage at any time of year.

Merida was fascinated by the Arendelle ships, larger and sturdier than those of the Western Clan – though, Elsa also knew, considerably more expensive and difficult to make. Arendelle might not be the best land for the growing of crops, but their trees were straight and tall, and the resulting lumber was perfect.

“Can we see on board the ships?” Merida was grinning widely, and Anna looked round with a delighted expression at the question. Elsa found herself looking at two almost identical hopeful looks, and had to fight not to laugh.

“Anna, would you like to show Princess Merida and Queen Elinor-”

Elinor cleared her throat politely. “I am quite content with admiring them from the ground, thank you.”

“My apologies,” said Elsa. “Anna, would you like to show Princess Merida and Master MacGuffin, if he so wishes, around the ship?” She nodded to the translator who had accompanied the group to go with them, and the four set off into the depths of the ship. Merida’s hair was like a flag announcing her presence as they made their way around, Anna breaking into conversation with some of the local shipwrights as she did so. She hoped that Merida would not be picking up any profanity along the way.

“You’re not much of a fan of ships, then?” Elinor’s words startled Elsa out of her thoughts, and she looked round to find the older queen giving her a wry smile.

“Something like that,” she said. “I haven’t set foot on board a ship so far in my life, and don’t want to start with one that’s only half-finished. Perhaps... one day. Before too long.”

“I barely set foot on ships before I was married,” said Elinor. “Sadly, I haven’t got much in the way of sea legs. Merida gets those from Fergus’s side, apparently.” She looked up to the ship and winced slightly. Following her gaze, Elsa caught sight of Merida and Anna climbing the rigging of the ship, and caught the sound of their laughter on the breeze. She gave a fond smile at the sight and shook her head, but kept an eye; if either of them fell, a pile of snow would be enough to break their fall.

"I don’t think Anna would care whether she had sea legs or not. She would just go on board anyway.”

That made Elinor laugh. “She does seem that way.” She looked round, her expression growing gentler. “You speak of your sister a lot.”

It was true. Part of it was the novelty, not just of being able to talk to people but of knowing her sister well enough to be able to. More of it, though, was not being sure of what else to say, especially not being sure what to say of herself. Talking about the ice sculptures had been uncomfortably close even as it was; what could she say when it came to her own affairs, her own life, her magic?

“She is very dear to me,” said Elsa.

“I can see that.” There was a moment’s pause, and then Elinor reached out and put her hand gently on Elsa’s shoulder. It felt warm, even through the fine fabric of her gown, and Elsa almost went to shy away from the touch. Other than Anna, she was still so unfamiliar with it. “I can see that you care for her greatly. It is a good sign in a ruler, that ability to care.”

“Thank you.”

 

 

 

 

They hardly spent any time within the palace. Partially it was just the result of there being a state visit in progress, when there was so much to see – an exhibition here, a tour there, and save for the meetings with ministers and the majority of meals there was hardly any need to be within the walls. On a couple of occasions, Elsa had even arranged for luncheons in other places.

They visited the new hospital that had just been opened. Arendelle was already developing something of a reputation as not fearing the new or the different, and Elsa had found herself approached by a woman named Fa Mulan from another Kingdom who had disguised herself as a man to gain an education in medicine, only to be discovered and cast out of the local medical community. Elsa had immediately installed her as head of a new hospital, and agreed to help fund the education in medicine of more women to help staff it. The one Minister who had been unhappy with the idea had apparently been solidly browbeaten into agreement by his wife.

There was talk, for that matter, of finally opening a university in Arendelle. For many years, they had held an agreement with the more populous Corona to send their best minds there, but there had been quite a number who had remained in Corona afterwards. Elsa did not blame them, but she knew that Arendelle would benefit from keeping them.

Arendelle had stood still for some thirteen years. She knew why, especially now: it was a great weight to be creating these new things, even with the whole-hearted support of her sister and ministers who had come to respect her when faced with what she was in comparison to Hans and the offerings of other states. But she was no longer consumed by fear the way that her parents must have been; as an adult, she could look back and remember the terror and the helplessness on their faces. How frightening it must have been to have a child who could so utterly overpower them, and who had grown up so fast that she cast them, as well as everyone else, aside. The energy that her parents had used trying to protect their daughter had meant that there was less for the Kingdom; the state visits that had been prevented for so many years had isolated them. There was much to do, and Elsa was grateful that at least she was young enough to hopefully have a long reign in which to do it.

It quickly became apparent that Anna and Merida got along splendidly; at their request, archery targets were put up in the courtyard, and Merida taught Anna to shoot a bow whilst Elinor watched and occasionally winced. Aside from Olaf accidentally getting shot, it went quite well. At times, they would ride while Elsa and Elinor took one of the royal carriages to their destination – provided it was not in the inner city and thus well within walking distance. Kristoff and MacGuffin seemed to get along surprisingly well, too, with Kristoff apparently able to understand him better than Merida did. Elsa didn’t ask.

In the late evenings, after dinner and the shows put on every other evening, Elsa and Elinor took to retiring to one of the smaller offices to talk more privately, both confident enough in their Angelt to even do away with the translator who looked uncomfortable in the presence of two queens.

Eventually, of course, the conversation turned to magic. “Since I was a child,” Elsa admitted, “it’s been there. There was never a time when I couldn’t do magic. Just... some years when I could not control it.”

It was an admission, and she could feel it; she looked up almost shyly to Elinor as she spoke, just the two of them in this small room, beside a fire far more for Elinor’s comfort than for Elsa’s own. But it did not seem to unnerve the older queen in the slightest.

Instead, Elinor smiled. “You have no doubt heard the stories of the Bear King Fergus of Dunbroch, and the curse laid on his wife.”

“I heard it was a spell, rather than a curse.” Of all people, Elsa knew the difference.

Elinor nodded, her smile turning sad. She put down the wineglass that she had been holding, and stood up, crossing to stand in front of the fire instead. Its light bought out the gold thread in her gown and wound into her hair, bought out the warmth in her. Elsa tried not to feel the connection, but could not help rising to her feet and crossing to stand beside her.

“Aye, well, spell or curse it did not matter. As you put it... I could not control it.”

“That’s why you’re not afraid of magic.”

Turning, Elinor smiled. She put her hand on Elsa’s shoulder again, and this time the urge to pull away was not so much because it felt wrong but because it felt so right. _Too_ right, the sort of touch that Elsa neither expected nor felt that she deserved. “I heard tales of magic in my youth. Wisps to lead you to your fate. Kelpies who are possessive of their rivers. The Cu Sith that take sheep or cattle in the night. I just... didn’t expect it to touch me.”

“We never do,” said Elsa, and even as she spoke the words she knew that there was more beneath them. She had spent only a little over a week in Elinor’s presence, but there as well was something unexpected, something new and shining.

“So no, dear, your magic doesn’t frighten me.”

Slowly, almost of its own accord, Elsa raised her hand to touch Elinor’s arm in return. It was strange standing like this, almost as if they were dancing, with the fire so warm that she could feel the prickle of her magic constantly reforming her dress on her skin. “You don’t think I could be a monster?”

“I’ve been a monster,” said Elinor, regret seeping into her tone. “The thought doesn’t scare me, and no, I don’t think you are one.”

Elsa meant to thank her. Meant to say that it was one thing for people to say that she was not a monster, and quite another for someone to say that they were not afraid even of the great depths (the great, dark, impossible depths) of her powers. It was the latter that she could see in Elinor’s eyes and hear in her voice, an acceptance that went beyond ice sculptures and sparkling dresses.

But that was not what happened. What happened was that she found herself leaning forwards, her hand sliding up Elinor’s arm, tentative but smooth. Elinor did not draw away, though, but leant forwards as well, her breath catching slightly.

Their lips met. Elsa tried not to shake at the touch of skin on hers, the warm brush of soft lips. Elinor’s kiss was uncertain, lips just sweeping gently over Elsa’s, but her hand was firm and she did not flinch away. It was Elsa who kissed her again, more firmly, tugging on Elinor’s lower lip and hearing the older queen gasp at the sensation.

Something snapped, and the moment broke. Elinor stepped away, one hand rising to touch her lips, her cheeks flushed. “Ye... aye... a lady shouldnae,” she said, her accent becoming more pronounced. “We cannae.”

Not that she did not want to. No, it was not right. Elinor was _married_ , by the stars, Queen of her own country with a daughter not much younger than Elsa herself. Nothing in her words had even suggested that she felt anything other than love for her husband. But they _could not_ , despite the ache that Elsa felt in her gut, the weakness in her legs.

She could not find her tongue to answer, and Elinor left. It was not quite fled – there was too much dignity to Elinor’s exit, despite her hurry and the hand that did not leave her lips – but it was not far from it.

And then she was alone again. Elsa stumbled back to her chair and sank into it, putting one hand to her chest. Elinor was right – they should not have done that. _She_ should not have done it, initiated or deepened the kiss. And yet she had. After a lifetime of control and stricture, a strength of will which she maintained over herself even if she no longer tried to hold back her powers in the same way, it had fallen apart in the presence of this foreign queen.

Because Elinor was not scared of monsters, whether Elsa was one or not. Because she knew what it was to stand on the other side of that perilously narrow divide.

 

 

 

 

The next day was strained, apparently enough so that Anna gave Elsa concerned looks. They were travelling north to see some of the towns who were part of the ice trade, with Kristoff leading the way and the translators finding themselves far more necessary where people did not have a common language with the Western Clans visitors.

One of the local lagmen had graciously opened up his home to them for the two nights that they would be there, and Elsa was relieved that neither Elinor nor Merida had the airs which would lead them to be disappointed in it. Despite the land giving many topics for conversation, despite the local culture of the area which they were visiting, Elsa found it difficult to even look Elinor in the eye, let alone speak to her.

“Are you all right?” Anna pulled her aside once they were in the lagman’s house and had relative privacy, even if it was the privacy of a small room being temporarily used as an office. “You’ve hardly said a word today.”

Elsa managed a smile. “I’m just tired,” she said, then added a little more impishly: “And my backside might be a little sore.”

“Yeah,” said Anna. She reached round to rub her own rear. “I ought to get Kristoff to talk to them about getting some cushions on those sleds.”

This far outside the city, carriages were not an option, and Merida had found the sight of the sleds exciting anyway. Elinor had looked a little more wary, but had climbed in gladly enough and had not seemed too unsettled at luncheon. At least, so far as Elsa had looked to see.

“Well, that sounds like a very good idea,” she said. “Now, I need to find Omist Aasen and thank him for his hospitality.”She squeezed Anna’s hands in what she hoped was a reassuring manner, and did indeed leave to find Aasen. Mercifully, the entire Western Clans delegation was not accompanying them, otherwise there probably would have been people sleeping in the stables.

Other than Kristoff, of course, whom Elsa did not fully trust to not climb out of the window after dark and retreat to the quiet of the stables anyway. But at least that did not run the risk of becoming an international issue.

 

 

 

 

The evening meal lightened the mood of the day, helped in no small amount by Merida’s fascination with the local dishes and MacGuffin’s enthusiastic, if mostly unintelligible, commentary.

“Ah widnae say noo twa thochty mare, ken fit a mean?”

Merida and Kristoff went to pass him another plate of food at the same time. At least he thanked them, Elsa supposed, which probably meant that it had been the right thing to do. The food here was heartier than that often served in the Palace, but it was no less pleasant, and the mølje and grovbrød definitely seemed to be a hit. Aasen’s Angelt was good, and he and his wife joined them at the head table and made good conversation throughout the evening.

It was already getting late when Elsa retired again to the small temporary office to go over a few letters for which she was preparing replies, and continue to read through an exceptionally long report which had been handed to her by one of her ministers some days before. She understood the desire for detail, but there was a point at which it became excessive, and he might just have reached that point if the report was better used as a doorstop than anything else.

She was so caught up in trying to make sense of it – so tired that the words were starting to blur on the page – that she did not at first hear the knock at the door. When it opened, she started, but regained her composure in an instant like a veil falling into place. “Enter,” she called in Meävelt; most likely one of Aasen’s staff wished to ask for her agreement on something to do with her guests.

As the door opened fully, however, she realised that it was Elinor and her heart seemed to stutter in her chest. Elsa jumped to her feet, dropping the report to the desk with a heavy thud, and caught her thigh on the edge of the wood as she made her way around it.

“Queen Elinor,” she said, quickly falling back to their shared tongue. “My apologies; I did not realise whom it was. Is there something in which I may assist you?”

Though the words fell smoothly from her tongue, the result of many years’ practice before her parents or her tutors, she felt almost tongue-tied, foolish. Her hands, clasped in front of her, tightened around each other. Elinor glanced to Elsa’s face for a moment, then looked away and closed the door. The silence of the room was thick in the air.

“It has occurred to me,” Elinor said, with a slow careful delicacy, “that there are things which need to be said.”

Elsa’s hands began to shake, and she realised with a catch of breath that it was not least because she still wanted to kiss Elinor. Again, and again, and to touch–

No, it did not do to have such thoughts. She blinked them away, sought and did not find a response, and opted instead for waiting to see what Elinor would say next.

For a moment longer, Elinor’s hand rested on the handle of the door, her eyes upon it, then she turned sharply and looked Elsa in the eye. Her composure was cracked, eyes hard and searching and no regal smile on her lips. “Why did you kiss me?”

The word _kiss_ , placed between them, caught in Elsa’s chest. “I could ask the same,” she said, in a flare of defiance that she had not been expecting. Perhaps it was the sense of _blame_ about it all; it occurred to Elsa that she did not so much feel ashamed of the kiss as feel ashamed of her lack of shame about it. It had been the same thrill she had felt when she first let her magic roll across the North Mountain – a power and a desire long restrained, yearning to be freed.

It seemed to catch Elinor by surprise. “You could,” she said, sharp and not an admission. “But my question was voiced first.”

What could Elsa say? That Elinor was beautiful, that she had a grace and poise that Elsa felt captivated by, that her own form of fearlessness was so untouchable as to make Elsa feel weak? “Why would you think?” she replied. “I am drawn to you. You...”

Her voice gave out on her, to her own surprise. She felt weak, strangely light, as if she could barely remain on the ground while Elinor gave her a look that almost had a touch of helplessness shining through it.

“You do not fear me. The monster I could be.”

Elinor shook her head, but it was slow. “And you do not fear the monster I have been.”

It was something between a statement and a question, and Elinor stepped forwards, taking one of Elsa’s hands in her own. Her skin was very warm, the palms of her hands rough in places from the embroidery she had spoken of doing, and her grip was firm on Elsa’s fingers.

“Why not?” said Elinor. She scanned Elsa’s eyes, as if looking for something deeper in them. “My husband and my daughter mean well by denying that I ever was a monster, but there was a time when I was one all the same. And they cannot... I cannot tell them that.”

“Because I understand. Because there are times when magic is a force greater than any person, and it feels as if I am just its conduit and not its user. Because I have injured my sister – and I have killed her, for she would have died were it not for _her_ actions. Not mine,” Elsa said, and the words spilled forth as if they were torn from within her. She found herself leaning in towards Elinor, looking still for the flinch or the horror or the sudden shutting off of the light in her eyes when she realised what Elsa meant. That Elsa had killed, for all but the actions of another. Accident or not, it was still a life she bore upon her heart. “For all the power I have over myself, I could not control what happened, and that made me the monster. And you do not fear that either, because you know it as well.”

Elinor’s lips trembled slightly. She reached up and brushed Elsa’s cheek, the touch so light that it was barely tangible. Elsa pressed into it, as her hands came up to either side of Elinor’s waist, feeling the slight hitch of her breathing. She was still not even sure how it had all communicated between them, how stories of what each other had done and seen had crept in and grown and become so much more of a realisation, but in their words and their actions they had somehow communicated it to each other.

The blame that had been in Elinor’s voice held Elsa back, but it was Elinor who closed the distance between them in another kiss. Elsa’s eyes closed, and she drank in the touch almost desperately, feeling a shiver down her spine and an unfamiliar, welcome sort of smoulder in her chest. Her hands tightened on Elinor’s waist, lips parting to let her tongue slip past and trace the lines of Elinor’s mouth.

One of Elinor’s hands slid into her hair, fingernails an edge compared to the softness of her lips. Elsa pulled them closer, until their bodies touched, the sparkling ice of her dress rasping rough against the velvet of Elinor’s gown. The strange press of body to body felt warm, not in the unpleasant way of the strongest summer sun or large fires, but in a way that felt as if it ran straight through to her core.

“Elsa...” Elinor murmured, and the accent rolled around the word. Her other hand slid down Elsa’s back, over the thin ice that was almost a part of her, so familiar that it was like touching skin anyway.

Elsa made a vague hushing noise and kissed her again. She didn’t want to be reminded of the _wrong_ , of the _should not_ or the _ought not_. There were enough of those in the life of any queen, never mind ones with the lives that they had led. She had denied and refused for too long. She kissed the corner of Elinor’s mouth, tasting her skin, then again on her jawline. Her hands slid up, to the back of Elinor’s dress, and her mouth traced down the line of her neck. She could feel the pulse in Elinor’s throat, the way that her breath hitched and she swallowed – nervously? – but neither of them pulled away. Instead, Elinor steered her back up to kiss her mouth again, and Elsa stumbled backwards against the desk.

It knocked against the back of her thighs, and she pulled Elinor with her, breasts pressed to breasts and hips to hips. One hand slipped round to Elinor’s back and found the fine lacing of her dress. The knots were tight, but she let slivers of ice wind between them and prise them open, unravelling the ties that bound.

Elinor gasped, and clutched at the neck of her dress before it could slide down. She leant away, but did not step back, her cheeks flushed and her circlet askew. “This is not what a lady should do,” she said.

Elsa held her gaze. “But what should a monster do?”

It never left; that was what the others could never understand. Even if it had only last a moment, even if there were no lasting scars, no lasting marks to show that the monster had ever been there... that did not mean that it left. Because the monster was not some outside force; it was something that dwelt deep within them, a shadow in the very deepest part of their soul. Seeing it could change you – did change you. And she saw the changes in Elinor’s eyes, the way that she glanced down at her hands for a moment then back up again.

For a moment, she still said nothing. Elsa raised one hand, with a delicate turn of her wrist, and her dress shimmered away in a glitter of thawing ice. The warmth of the fire touched her skin, and she saw Elinor’s eyes dip again but held her head high despite the nervousness still coiled in her chest. The sun had left no marks on her skin – had barely touched it for many years, after all – and she bore not a single scar.

“Aye,” said Elinor softly. She dropped her hands, and let her dress and shift pool down to the floor. A clench of desire ran through Elsa, and she reached out to put one hand to the dip of Elinor’s collarbone.

Her fingers traced downwards. Down Elinor’s sternum and between her breasts, the centre of her stomach, slowing just beneath her navel. Elinor’s breath caught, and then Elsa rolled her hand over and slipped it down between Elinor’s thighs.

It was just a touch, just skin to skin, but it was so much more and something burned in Elinor’s eyes as she reached in and kissed Elsa again. Her hands came up, one cupping Elsa’s breast, and in the touch of her lips was something desperate and strong.

Slowly, Elsa let her fingers begin their exploration of Elinor’s sex. She had touched herself before, at least since she had become the ‘Snow Queen’ and awakened from her long, dark sleep, but to touch another was familiar and not at the same time. The same soft wet touch of skin, the same sensation of curls of hair brushing against her fingers, the same thrill down her spine – and yet the reliance on Elinor’s reactions to guide her touch, the slightly different shape to the folds of skin, even just the different angle of her wrist.

Elinor’s teeth caught at her lower lip, and Elsa felt herself being pressed back against the wood of the desk. The hard edges of the world seemed to pin her in place, so different from the softness of Elinor’s skin, the thigh that nudged hers apart and pressed between. The angle was awkward for a moment, her hand trapped between them, and Elsa’s feet almost slid out from under her.

“Hell!” She went to grab at the desk to keep her balance, but Elinor caught her instead, and for a moment she saw the Queen of Dunbroch framed by the firelight and with something dark in her eyes. For a moment, there was the monster there, the memory of what it was to lose or to give up control.

The moment seemed to burn her from the inside out. Elinor’s hands slid down to cup Elsa’s hips, and pulled her closer until her sex was pressed to Elinor’s thigh. Instinctively she ground down against it, and bit down a moan at the rush of pleasure that hit her. She felt strangely helpless, not even supporting her own weight, but this time it was not a threatening sensation. Their lips met again, and this time Elinor was the more forward, tongue probing and teeth nipping.

Neither spoke between the sharp gasps, the soft pants, that left their lips. Elsa was not sure why, supposing in some hazy way that it was both too real and too _human_ an action. Instead she wound one hand into Elinor’s long hair, thick and soft both at once. Her hips rolled against Elinor’s thigh, the hot grind of skin on skin. Elsa felt her knees buckle, and had to grab at the edge of the desk to anchor herself as pleasure hit her in harder waves.

Her hand slipped and stilled, but Elinor did not much seem to notice. Her mouth traced down Elsa’s throat, to the sharp line of her collarbone, hot against Elsa’s suddenly burning-cold skin. Nails scraped across Elsa’s back, so hard that she felt them as lingering lines of stinging heat as she rode Elinor’s thigh, the movements of her hips instinctual and smooth. Elinor’s mouth was hot and her teeth grazed Elsa’s skin, and it burned and prickled through Elsa’s body as ice spread from her fingers across the wood of the desk.

It was like lightning, crackling up and through her. The sweat on her chest glittered into ice, and Elinor made a sound of surprise but sucked harder, tongue pressing into Elsa’s skin. Elsa let her head fall back, her eyes fall closed, the world fall away to nothing more than the pleasure rushing up through her, Elinor’s thigh against her and Elinor’s mouth on her skin and the way that it all built and twisted and tightened in her.

This was about _her_ ; her body, her pleasure, her desire to feel her skin on Elinor’s. Nothing more or less than them. Elsa released the hold on the pleasure in her, and almost in an instant she felt it explode free.

She hit her climax hard and breathlessly, feeling herself shatter and seeing fractal lights spread across the inside of her eyes. It rolled on, wave on wave, so intense that she could not hold herself upright and it was only Elinor’s firm hands and the bite of the wood on her thighs that did anything like hold her still.

Only as the waves receded did she come back to herself, feeling her arms and legs as if for the first time, breathing all the way through herself. She cupped Elinor’s chin to look into her eyes, dark and wide-pupiled in the shadowed room, and for a moment they seemed to burn into each other.

“Elsa,” breathed Elinor, and hearing her name made her shudder again. Elsa dragged her in for a kiss, hot and slick and unrefined, their lips grinding together almost painfully. A little desperate sound passed Elinor’s lips, and Elsa pushed them upright, sending her stumbling back onto the fur rug that lay in front of the fire.

She bit Elinor’s lip hard enough to hear her gasp. Her hands roamed, fast, wanting to touch all of Elinor at once. They slid down her back, traced the elegant curve of her spine and then rolled down to frame her hips. There was still the cool of ice on Elinor’s lips, just for a moment, before it melted away to leave nothing but the iridescent touch of magic. Elsa wanted to _taste_ her, taste the way that her skin differed from her lips, that her throat differed from her cheek.

Her lips trailed down Elinor’s neck, feeling the flutter of her pulse and the way that her skin held or gave depending on where Elsa’s mouth fell on it. She slid to her knees as her mouth traced down Elinor’s body, over one breast and down her stomach to end at the top of her thigh. From above her, Elinor made a sound of surprise, but Elsa looked up with hunger burning so fiercely through her that she thought it might spill forth as tangible as her magic.

Letting her fingers trail around Elinor’s wrists, she tugged, pulling the DunBroch queen down to the fur rug with her. The firelight glowed on her skin. Elinor might have been about to say something, but Elsa cut her off with a kiss.

It was so simple, so instinctual. Want, take. Desire, touch. She half-pushed Elinor back onto the floor, although it was met with no resistance, and sat up to let her eyes take in the sight. Elinor seemed to glow in the firelight, her skin all soft sheen and smooth to the touch.

“You have the poise of a Queen,” said Elsa, her voice soft and lower than she was used to. Perhaps that had been the sounds that she had been holding back, as much out of pleasure in the way they burned her throat as out of secrecy. “The grace of one. You walk like the eye in the storm, and yet...” she ran her fingers down the silky inside of Elinor’s forearm. “It is not because you fear it. It is almost as if it flees from you.”

“Do you plan to chase the darkness out of Arendelle?” asked Elinor. Her voice was breathless, shaky, but somehow it did not lack strength. One hand came up to cup Elsa’s cheek, her thumb at the corner of Elsa’s mouth.

“For those who fear the darkness.” Elsa turned to brush her lips over Elinor’s hand. “Yes.”

She knew fear so well, its threats and insinuations and shadows, but there was none for this. None left, perhaps. Or perhaps it was because her fears had been so very _known_ , and the unknown had no terror for her. Her teeth lightly grazed the heel of Elinor’s hand, then she placed a sucking kiss to the pulse point of her wrist.

Just for a moment, she held Elinor’s gaze, then slid down her body, letting skin slide on skin as she did so. Elsa pressed her mouth to Elinor’s stomach, just beneath the faint silver crescents of her stretch-marks, then slid lower once again.

The taste of skin was almost intoxicating. She lay on her stomach between Elinor’s legs, and let her mouth drift slowly down the crease of her thigh. Elinor sighed, the sound of a moan somewhere deep in it, as Elsa’s tongue came out against her skin, finding it wet and warm already. The smell of arousal seemed to engulf her, to guide the suck of her lips or the rolling of her tongue, the power of the touch of her mouth a new and heady feeling. It was one thing to touch herself, hidden in the night, but it was another to be like this, with another woman before the fire, not masked by covers or done in secrecy. This was not some bodily response, but a _want_ , something that cut deeper and held faster than a _need_.

There was a low, pleasurable burn in Elsa’s jaw as her tongue coaxed trembling and gasps from Elinor. She tasted of salt and skin and _desire_ , something almost intangible, and one hand came to rest on Elsa’s hair, fingertips just sliding into it.

Elsa glanced up as her lips found a point of pleasure to suck hard at, but she saw nothing more than the way that Elinor arched her backed, a sound on her lips cracking off into holding her breath as tremors raced through her. Skin seemed to flutter against her tongue, but then Elinor released her sigh and with one last, slow run of her tongue over Elinor’s flesh, Elsa slid upwards so that they were more like eye-to-eye again. At least, they were hip-to-hip, as Elsa supported herself on her arms and Elinor looked up with deep dark eyes that seemed to be losing just a touch of their boldness as the madness of the moment faded away.

Elinor reached up and ran one her thumb along Elsa’s lower lip, dragging the taste of herself off the younger woman’s skin. For a moment they were quiet, the only sound their ragged breathing and, in Elsa’s ears, the pounding of her own heart.

“We should not have done this,” murmured Elinor.

Elsa ran her tongue along one of Elinor’s fingers. “Do you regret it?”

“No. But we should still...”

Before she could say it again, Elsa cut her off with a kiss, firm and wet and still salty on her tongue. When she was sure that more protests would not spill forth, she drew away again, and looked down at Elinor almost curiously.

“This can be exactly what we want,” she said. “Nothing more, nothing less. We have total power over this.”

“And what do you want?” said Elinor.

Elsa tilted her head to the side as she considered her answer. The ice still held her hair in place, but now she allowed it to thaw and the waves to fall freely over her shoulders. “To see how it goes,” she replied. “Keep it flexible. You are here for another couple of weeks.”

A faint frown drew Elinor’s brows together, but the brush of Elsa’s thumb chased it away again. “I’m sure we can do that,” she said quietly.

 

 

 

 

Elsa’s dress was simple to redo, Elinor’s only a little harder to lace up once again. Harder was letting Elinor walk from the room as if nothing had happened, as if she could not still feel warm skin against her own and the ghosts of lips on hers. Turning her mind back to the papers she had been trying to read was impossible, and it was not long before she could start to feel the dull ache of tiredness seeping into her bones. And her backside, courtesy of the sled. She had told Omist Aasen that she would not need a lady’s maid, and the room set aside for her was quiet and dark when she reached it.

She did not actually expect to sleep well that night, but it seemed like her head had barely hit the pillow before she plunged into darkness. She awoke to the first rays of light streaming across her face, and let herself slip back to being awake again. Warmth still seemed to curl in her veins, thicker and slower than the glitter of her magic but just about as heavy, and as she stretched out her arms she felt a give and softness in her muscles.

It was surprisingly easy to make her way down to breakfast as if nothing had happened, to make small talk and discuss their plans for the day – the particular small village to whom they were going to talk about collecting ice and the ice trade, the forest areas that made a good example of the trees Arendelle grew for lumber, the people of the area. So easy that it felt almost unreal.

 

 

 

 

She did not ask Elinor to come to the study again that night, but was not surprised when the older woman did. This time it was Elinor who was the aggressor in their union, her mouth hot on Elsa’s breasts, her belly, her fingers slipping up between Elsa’s thighs. Elsa could have cried out at the sweet hot burn of Elinor’s fingers inside her, the trembling pleasure that rushed through her body. But she held her tongue, and pressed her teeth to Elinor’s shoulder until a red mark bloomed there, and returned the favour with longing hands and a ready tongue.

When both were spent and softening into warmth, they found themselves before the fire again, Elinor lying on the thick rug and Elsa sitting beside her, still trailing her fingers over Elinor’s skin almost in fascination.

It was... so easy. Almost frighteningly so. To desire and to take, and her body hungered so much for this release that it did not see touch as a threat, did not leave ice on Elinor’s skin. Even the ice in Elsa’s hair had melted, and some of the longer locks were starting to curl now that they were freed. At any other point in her life – the life beyond this room, beyond this moment – she would have hurried to fix it, but now she let it fall as they sat and lay in the eye of the storm, basking in its momentary peace.

She traced curves over Elinor’s stomach, up to the swell of her breasts. Goosebumps rose on Elinor’s skin, but the older woman did not so much as murmur. Elinor’s eyes were thoughtful, and she raised one hand to tilt Elsa’s chin towards her.

“What is it?” said Elsa quietly. “Something troubles you.”

“Are you not troubled by this?” Elinor frowned slightly, more uncertain than angry. Her thumb brushed against Elsa’s lips. “You know we ought not be doing this.”

“There are many things that are oughts and ought nots in this world.” For a moment, Elsa removed her hand from Elinor’s skin; a glove of icy lace formed over it, glittering in the firelight, then faded away again leaving only her hand, pale and plain. “We do not act out of fear or hatred. We do no harm. I cannot see the crime in this.”

For another, a crime it might have been. She was a queen, immune from such charges, but for another the word _seduction_ might have been bought out. Or worse.

Something seemed to clench in her chest, insubstantial but painful all the same. “I have lived my life by oughts, Lady Dunbroch, but it has only hurt those around me.” Her own pain, her own burden to bear, was one matter. But Anna had been hurt, and her parents, and the kingdom had suffered for the isolation of its rulers. “You and I will start no wars. We both know this is not some matter of love.”

It was not a thing created by the heart, not this. This was older and deeper and more primal, and shook Elsa to her very core while not hurting her mind at all. It did not make her unable to think, just boiled and hungered in the back of her thoughts.

Elinor blushed, the colour in her cheeks visible even by the firelight. “I didnae mean for...” her words stumbled off into nothingness, and she shook her head. “You are like no other I have met, Lady Arendelle.”

It was probably strange, given the circumstances, that they did not use their names. But somehow Elsa preferred it that way. Using their titles made them feel more... equal, somehow. Names were more ambiguous.

“Perhaps that is a mercy for the world,” said Elsa, with a slight smile. Sometimes it was almost as if she could feel waves rolling into the world around her, the weight of her mere existence changing things. And it was not some narcissism – she was Queen, and she did not let the power stand idle. A new university, new hospitals, new schools; she wanted to make up for the last decade and race ahead of the coming ones. The world needed to _change_. And now she could help it do so.

“Or perhaps it is a pity,” Elinor replied. It was a strange thing to hear, but nonetheless it made Elsa smile.

 

 

 

 

Perhaps it would have been better for them both if it had been left behind there, among the snow of the uplands where even a crown becomes a questionable thing. Let it remain a brand across their memories, as clear as the bruises that marked the pale skin of Elsa’s hips where Elinor had gripped her tightly. Elinor had been mortified when she realised what she had done, but Elsa had only laughed. It was not as if there was another to see them.

Something in them would not leave it behind, though. Not _could not_ , but _would not_ , a choice not to let go. In some ways, it was easier; Elsa had her chambers, and the servants were long-practiced in not disturbing her. And after all, why would it be strange for the two queens to wish to talk awhile after supper? Of course, their words were not exactly of trade, but words they exchanged nonetheless, breathed against skin or murmured into hair, muted and held down between just the two of them.

The days tarried, the nights burned. Elinor knew things which Elsa did not, but Elsa was the faster learner, her fingers deft and her tongue fast proving skilled. The only discomfort which they found was when Elinor tried to hold her, and Elsa pulled away with a shake of her head.

“That isn’t... what this is,” she said quietly.

Elinor looked at her for a long moment, then nodded. “I understand.”

The laws and conventions of both their lands said that it should not be so simple as this, and yet somehow it was. Cutting everything away, paring themselves down, they somehow lost nothing and gained rather more.

 

 

 

 

It almost fell apart. They were in Elsa’s chambers, Elsa’s hands slipping Elinor’s dress from her shoulders, pausing to kiss the soft skin and suck gently at the firmer line of her collarbone. Elinor ran one hand through Elsa’s hair, almost hot against her scalp, dislodging fragments of ice that faded before they hit the ground.

Elsa’s tongue trailed up Elinor’s neck, past the line of her pulse, and the rich velvet of Elinor’s gown slid lower on her breasts, falling open to show her back. Elsa let her hands chase it down, and Elinor gave a breathless laugh, just as running footsteps sounded in the hall outside, the door to Elsa’s chamber was flung open.

“Mum! You’re ne’er believe-“

Merida’s words were strangled in her throat as she an Anna came skidding to stops – Anna into a chair, only to help matters more. Elinor gave a shocked gasp, spinning and clutching her dress to her chest, while Elsa found herself utterly locked in place, staring at the scene before them.

The doors swung closed under their own weight, and while Anna’s eyes went wide, one hand coming up to cover her mouth, Merida’s expression became one of absolute horror. She turned back towards the doors, and only then did Elsa move, jolting upright with her hand coming round in an arc that left a trail of ice around the wall of the room, culminating in a slamming sheet across the door itself.

Merida stopped again, then whirled on the both of them and began shouting in Dunbrochan, the words too fast for Elsa to even attempt to catch them. Pulling her dress back onto her shoulders, Elinor spoke back hurriedly, but to judge by Merida’s rising voice and violent gestures in Elsa’s direction it was not having much effect.

“Please, stop,” said Anna, going to grab Merida by the arm. Merida shook away, looked Anna up and down as well as if questioning what she was about to do, and the implied comment against her sister was the last straw.

She stepped forward between Elinor and the younger girls and drew herself up. “ _Stop_.”

Somehow, it worked. Merida fell silent, despite the look of shock still on her face, and from the rustle of fabric behind her, Elsa would guess that Elinor was returning her dress to its proper place. She did not dare look round.

“If you will speak in my presence, you will do so in our shared tongue,” she told Merida. She could feel the lines of her dress subtly sharpening, the lace filigree of the cuffs filling in to a defined edge. The ice in her hair tightened her braid. “And you will remember in whose Kingdom you stand.”

“How _dare_ you?” said Merida. “How dare you speak to me like that and act like you’re the high and mighty one when you- you-” she gestured in Elinor’s direction. “With my mother! You, acting like you’re all regal and high and mighty-”

“Merida, that’s _enough_ ,” said Elinor. Despite her flushed cheeks and ruffled hair, she looked more poised than she had a moment ago.

“And you!” Merida rounded on her mother. “Whatever happened, you haven’t given up on doing what you think is at least _right_ , whether it’s keeping tradition or breaking it. And now I find you here!”

Anna tried to step in. “Merida, you should at least let them talk.”

“Talk? I think their actions have been more than enough!” Merida banged on the door, but Elsa’s ice held fast and muffled the sound beside. The air in the rest of the room was chilly, but not outright cold, and part of Elsa was surprised at the control she still held. “Doing whate’er you fancy might not be good enough for a princess, but it is for a queen? I’d love to hear your justification for that! And I’m sure Dad would besides!”

“Don’t make those threats,” Elinor began to say, but Elsa spoke more firmly.

“You would make war over something of which you understand nothing?”

“I understand enough to know you’ve been tupping my mother!” Elinor gasped at the crude term, and Anna looked surprised, but Elsa held her ground in the face of Merida’s wrath. “If this is how you do things in Arendelle, I’ll nae want a part of it in my time! You, you...”

To judge by the fury blazing in her cheeks, it was probably a good thing that Merida could not find words for her thoughts. And so help her, Elsa _understood_ that anger. She could feel something akin to it, because this was supposed to have been something private for only herself and Elinor to know of. It was not so much embarrassment as frustration, the sense of going from complete privacy to this lack of it at such an inopportune moment.

But that was, of course, the reason that they had meant to keep it private. Not so much for selfishness, or at least not just because of it, but because they had both known without saying that it would hurt others around them. This was a matter for beasts and monsters, and holding something close between them that could not be found elsewhere. They understood so precisely what it was, and what it was not, and explaining that to an outsider – even one so close to them as Merida or Anna – was nigh unthinkable.

“It does no good to rage,” said Elsa, more gently but still with the steel beneath her tone, “and to not allow for an answer. Say what you will, but say it with some composure.”

For a moment, Merida merely kept her glare and held her ground, cheeks flushed and teeth gritted, but she breathed deeply through her nose for perhaps almost a minute. Then she released her clenched fists and spoke with only the slightest of wavers in her voice.

“This is not about war and politics. This is my _mother_ , and my father and my brothers back home, and you have no right to hurt them.”

And there, the very core of it. The simpler words cut deeper than all of Merida’s anger had done, and Elsa felt a tightening of regret in her chest just for a moment. “This was not done with any ill-will to you,” she said, “or to your family. It is just...”

Somehow, the words failed her. Everything that she and Elinor had been able to communicate without having to utter a sound was lost as soon as she tried to wrap words around it. It made her feel strangely helpless, after all of these years of being taught to find words for things no matter how difficult they may be.

A hand on her shoulder bought her out of her shock. Elsa looked round to see Elinor, face drawn but regal again, stepping up beside her. “Let me,” she said quietly. She walked towards her daughter, and though Merida at first backed away a pace and shook her head, Elinor kept going until she could take her hands. “Merida, hen, will you let me explain?”

Merida paused, and for one cautious moment Elsa found herself holding her breath, then nodded. With a squeeze of her hands, Elinor looked round and nodded to Elsa, and she allowed the ice to fade from the walls and unlock the door again.

“Perhaps you should talk here,” said Elsa. “If you will excuse me.”

Her hands were shaking now. She had not noticed when that had started. Letting her train flow down from her shoulders and extend behind her once again, Elsa swept from the room, barely even hearing the footsteps running after her until she was in the corridor and the doors had swung closed again.

“Elsa!”

At first, Elsa squeezed her eyes closed, and walked a little faster. She was not sure that she could take this right now.

Anna ran up and grabbed her arm, jolting her to a stop. “Elsa! Stop!”

“Anna, please,” the words came out quietly. For all of the bravado she had shown in front of Merida, she was not sure that she could take disappointment from Anna. Not on this. “I’m sorry, I can’t...”

She got no further as Anna pulled her into a hug so tight that it almost hurt. “It’s all right,” said Anna, mostly into Elsa’s hair. “It’s fine. You’re my sister, remember? No matter what.”

“We did not mean for anyone to find out,” Elsa said. She clung tightly to Anna in return, feeling as if she was drawing stability from her younger sister. “And now Merida...”

“Merida coped with her mother turning into a bear,” Anna replied. “I’m sure she’ll handle her turning into a sapphist.”

For some reason, Anna’s offhand delivery of the comment was what made Elsa crack. Giggles rose up through her and burst out, and Anna started laughing as well, and before too long it seemed that the two of them were propping each other up as they dissolved into absolute gales of laughter.

“Do not teach her that word,” Elsa eventually managed. “By the wind and sky, _do not teach her that word_. Who in the world taught her the word tupping, anyway?”

“I have no idea,” said Anna, between gasping for breath. Another stray snigger broke through. “It might have been when we were at the dance in the square, with some of Kristoff’s friends.”

That evening had been a little bit rowdier than the others, and Elsa had kept more to herself than she would have done at some of the more formal occasions, but it had been pleasant all the same. Bonfires in the streets and more than one band vying for attention, and the people of Arendelle trying to teach the Dunbrochans how to dance their reels. Then the bagpipes had started up, and the teaching had started flowing in the other direction instead.

“Oh, have mercy.” Elsa reached up to wipe beneath her eyes, where there were actually stray tears. “This was... oh, I do not even know what to say.”

“It’s all right,” said Anna again. She reached out and rubbed Elsa’s arm, and gave her that smile which meant that she didn’t care in the slightest. “You can say whatever you want. It’s your life. And besides, everyone knows that Elinor’s the power in Dunbroch. And there’s not exactly a threat to the succession.”

“Anna!” Shock that her sister could say such a thing managed to turn into laughter as well.

Anna coloured slightly. “All right, I’ve been spending time with Kristoff’s friends as well. But it’s true. So we’re going to make sure that it’s not some political scandal, and... I’m sure Elinor will know what to say to Merida.”

“I hope you’re right.”

Grinning, Anna squeezed Elsa’s arm. “Come on. When am I not?”

 

 

 

 

Only once, after that, did they spend any appreciable time alone. Although technically it was not quite alone – they stood on the balcony overlooking the inner courtyard, side by side and carefully not touching, while Anna, Merida, Young MacGuffin and Kristoff all sat playing cards in the room behind them. But with the argument over the rules that seemed to be ongoing, it was at least privacy enough that they could speak.

“I am sorry if I have caused... problems,” said Elsa.

Elinor shook her head. “We are both responsible for what happened. And... Merida will come to understand, in time, perhaps. Though I would almost rather she did not.”

“The moment of being a monster,” Elsa murmured.

“Indeed.”

She thought of Anna for a moment, and nodded. “The innocence is better, perhaps.”

Elinor reached across and let her hand rest on Elsa’s, just for a moment, but no more. It sent a peculiar ache right through Elsa’s body, the urge to pull Elinor close and seek out all the secrets of her skin again. She pushed it aside as Elinor spoke. “I have agreed with her that I will speak to her father when I return home. She does not know it, but in the long time he spent out on the boats, I know that there were... indiscretions.”

“Aye, ye swiking scunner, fit ye doon?”

“I’m not swiping anything!” Anna protested, to general laughter. Both Elsa and Elinor turned for a moment to look back at the scene. “You must be playing a different game to the rest of us, I swear it!”

“She might be right,” said Elinor. “We’ve a few strange games in Dunbroch.”

Elsa chuckled. “Well, doubtless it makes that game more interesting.” Elinor’s dress was askew on her shoulder, and she reached out to straighten it for her. At the touch, Elinor drew in her breath sharply, but said nothing. “Whatever happens, Dunbroch will always have an ally in Arendelle. I hope that you know that.”

“We’ve got the treaties and the trade agreements to prove it,” Elinor replied, slightly playfully. “But yes, I know that. Whatever happens.”

Just for a moment, Elsa was bold enough to reach across and twin her fingers into Elinor’s, palm-to-palm. Their ship would be leaving the next day, carrying with it everything but paperwork and memories, and though there are letters that could be exchanged their relationship was not particularly a matter of words. Then their hands slipped apart again, and Elsa folded away her thoughts of Elinor and bundled up her memories of what it was like to throw aside crowns and expectations, and almost felt the shift in the air between them as they became the two Queens once again.

“Your Majesty,” said Elinor, with a respectful bow of her head, stepping away before turning to join the game of cards inside. Perhaps she, at least, would be able to keep the rules the same for everyone.

Elsa turned back to look at the rapidly-darkening sky. It was a clear night, the stars like scattered white sand, and there was the faintest hint of the aurora on the northern skyline. She allowed herself to smile, and release some of the tension in her shoulders. It was a relief to know that things would not break the world.

 

 

 

 

The ships left at dawn. Merida had looked none-too-happy to be woken at such an hour, and Anna had been quite bleary as well as the procession formally made its way to the docks. An Arendellen ship would be part of the fleet returning to Dunbroch, the first that the treaty had arranged for over the coming years in return for Dunbroch’s own products.

Elinor and Elsa had clasped hands at the farewell, and Anna had curtseyed to Elinor as gracefully as could be expected at that time in the morning. There had only been a moment’s hesitation before Merida returned the gesture, curtseying primly to Elsa but shaking Anna’s hand more warmly. Whatever Elinor had said, it must have been the right thing.

“Until the next time we meet, Your Majesty, Your Highness,” said Elsa. Elinor gave her a warm smile and inclination of her head, Merida a more cautious one. Elsa wished that she knew what to say to smooth over that trouble, but she was not sure that there was so simple an answer as that. As if sensing her discomfort, Anna reached over and squeezed her sister’s arm.

“And you, Your Majesty, Your Highness,” replied Elinor, with a nod to each in turn.

Anna leaned faux-conspiratorially towards Merida. “And don’t forget to write!”

That, at least, was enough to crack a smile. “Aye, I won’t. And I’ll try to get MacGuffin to add his part. Kristoff can understand it, aye?”

“In writing? We’ll find out,” said Anna.

With that, they boarded their flagship, and Elsa and Anna drew back from the water’s edge as the preparations were finished for sailing. The wind was good this morning, crisp and in the direction in which they wished to sail; hopefully the seas would stay kind to them.

“Do you regret it?” said Anna quietly, as the ships set off. A few of the more awake Clans men were hanging off the back of the boat, waving enthusiastically to the people on the shore.

Though she took a moment to think, Elsa found herself unable to doubt her answer. “Not for a moment.”

After all, every monster needed its time to breathe. And it was safer, perhaps, to let it do so in the arms of another that could truly, even for a moment, understand.


End file.
